


Happy Birthday, Professor

by AmeliaPonders



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Times, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaPonders/pseuds/AmeliaPonders
Summary: The Doctor's least favorite class to teach has an unexpected guest...one that's about to make a dismal birthday much, much better.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LizAnn_5869](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizAnn_5869/gifts), [Daydreaming_Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreaming_Angel/gifts), [hellostarlight20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/gifts).



> This is part of the wacky #desksexathon2016/#desksexathon2k16/#desksex/whatever hashtags us weirdos kept bandying about when the idea of writing a bunch of desk!sex Doctor/Rose fics was born in our fangirl facebook group. I love you ladies!
> 
> Anyway, this is my contribution! Many thanks to [Bria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bria) for a quick and helpful beta!
> 
> ameliapondersfic.tumblr.com - Let's be friends on the tumblr machine!

This is shaping up to be the worst birthday he’s ever had. Okay, so he’s only had three of them in this particular body, despite being nearly a millennium old. When you’re that old, when you’ve lived that much, birthdays seem a pointless, frivolous thing to mark. But shortly after they’d gotten to Pete’s World and the Doctor had to establish an identity for paperwork purposes, Rose said he had to pick a birthday and it might as well be the day they started this life here together. He’d agreed, and agreed to the subsequent birthday parties, silly hats and all, because Rose usually gave him her _real_ presents when they got home. Last year had featured a pink corset thing and a leather whippy thing and it had been oh, so much fun. 

This year, however, the Doctor isn’t sure he even has alone time with Rose to look forward to. She has been completely swamped at Torchwood for nearly a month, dealing with heading off a Kabizon invasion, sixteen Jondarans who were aiming for a cosmetic surgery space station and missed, and, scariest of all, Cyberman parts being dug up and sold to unknown buyers for unknown purposes. Rose had really been burning the candle at both ends, and when the Doctor left this morning, she was still fast asleep, as she had been when he got home from dinner with Jake last night.

No one at the university knows it’s his birthday, which is fine by him, but he wishes the universe would cut him a little slack today nonetheless. Instead, it has given him a wife he’s barely seen for weeks, a motorcycle riding through a puddle that splattered mud all over his fancy bigger-on-the-inside professor-y briefcase, and now an Intro to Physics lecture with about 200 bored and frankly unintelligent first-years.

As he shuffles into the lecture hall, he curses himself for ever agreeing to take on a class like this. It’s his only undergraduate section, and he only said he’d teach it because the department head agreed to adjust his schedule to have afternoons off three days a week, which he uses to tend to the baby TARDIS. Of course, thanks to this class, today he is stuck here until at least half four.

The students already seated are all on their phones or talking loudly. Everyone else making their way to their seats add to the din, which the Doctor does his best to ignore as he pulls out his notes for today’s lecture. He doesn’t notice the person in the back who’s not supposed to be there.

“Right, let’s start with a quick review from last class, shall we? Who can tell me what the Coriolis effect is?”

Silence.

A quick glance reveals several students actually sleeping. Many others are still on their mobiles or on their laptops, but clearly not taking notes. The Doctor sighs, but today he can’t be bothered to care about their lack of interest and respect. He just wants to get out of here and home to Rose before they have dinner with Pete, Jackie, and Tony. That is, if Rose isn’t called away again.

He does another quick, half-hearted scan of his audience and notices one hand up in the shadowy back row of the lecture hall. He isn’t paying attention enough to see the whole person, but points, indicating he or she should go ahead and respond. Hopefully, they’ll answer correctly and the class can move on.

“The Coriolis effect is when fluids curve as they travel across or above the Earth’s surface. It’s also the thing that makes people think toilets in Australia flush in the opposite direction, ‘cept anyone who thinks that is an idiot.”

A few students snicker at the snarky response. The Doctor, meanwhile, tries to pick his jaw up off the floor because he knows that voice. Oh, he knows that voice _very_ well. What the hell is she doing here, pretending to be a stu-- Oh. Oh, god. When he told her this fantasy, he meant roleplay in their bedroom. He never thought she’d show up at his bloody lecture!

“Yes, all of that is correct, Miss—“

“Smith.”

“Miss Smith,” the Doctor repeats, trying not to grin too wide at the fact that Rose is here. A flash of inspiration hits him then. “Back row, it’s a bit hard to see you lot. There’re plenty of seats closer. Could you all move forward, please?”

All but Rose and one kid who is apparently in stage 4, virtually-unwakeable sleep right now, move a few rows down, looking annoyed. Rose, on the other hand, starts marching right to the front row.

It takes every diversion tactic known to his big Time Lord brain not to whimper and/or get incredibly, unbearably hard when he gets a good look at her outfit. Everyone in the class watches as she makes her way down the steps of the sloping lecture hall, black Mary Janes with thick five-inch heels clacking all the way. She’s also wearing bright red knee socks, a tight white blouse just this side of indecent, and an impossibly short plaid skirt. He thinks he might pass out.

Knowing the undergrads are staring at her, and knowing that the Doctor is staring at her, Rose does a graceful-but-sultry move, swinging her hips just a bit more than necessary as she sits down in the seat in front of him. The Doctor has never been more grateful for the uninspiring teacher’s desk he’s standing behind, because his efforts to avoid a hard-on have epically failed. He’s lucky that little sashay of hers didn’t make him come in his pants.

Realizing he hasn’t said anything for a while now, the Doctor clears his throat and valiantly proceeds with the review portion of the lecture. He purposely avoids calling on Rose, but more than once, she’s the only one raising her hand and he has no choice. Every time she answers, it’s in this no-nonsense tone he’s only heard her use when commanding her Torchwood team or commanding _him_ in their bedroom. What a little minx. When she smirks after talking about vector length, the Doctor gives her a stern look and corrects her (intentionally) wrong answer.

She backs off a bit when she realizes he needs to get out from behind the desk to go to the white board and probably shouldn’t have a stiffie with a roomful of first-year uni students in front of him. Still, a few times during the class, she can’t help but flash him her trademark tongue-touched smile.

Finally, 45 interminable minutes later, the Doctor dismisses the class. He deals as swiftly as possible with the few students who come up to ask questions, foregoing his usual habit of imparting as much physics knowledge as he can on anyone who shows an interest. After a few more minutes, he and Rose are finally alone.

He looks directly into her sparkling eyes with a stern, piercing glare. “Come with me,” he says in his best professor voice. When she gets up, he rests his hand on her lower back, subtly guiding her as they head into the corridor. Thankfully, it’s mostly empty, as this is a rather remote part of the building with just the one lecture hall and a smattering of mostly vacant offices. His hand presses more firmly, fingers gripping the back of her shirt.

As soon as they reach the Doctor’s office, he closes the door, pressing the lock on the handle, which latches with a small pop. She watches him, biting her lip.

“Sit down,” he says curtly, and she obeys as he makes his way to his desk and faces her. “Miss Smith, you were severely disruptive in my class today. Your insolent behavior, your tawdry clothing clearly designed to tempt everyone who looks at you…this has no place in an institution of higher learning!” He bangs his hand on the desk just hard enough to make her jump a tiny bit, just hard enough to let her know how “angry” he is.

“I’m sorry,” she replies with a pout, looking down at the floor contritely. She tries not to let her pout turn into a smirk or a full-on grin.

The Doctor notices her hint of a smirk and takes advantage. “I don’t think you’re sorry at all, young lady.” He looms over her sitting form and clutches her face in his hands, looking directly into her fiery eyes. Then, he tilts his head the slightest bit forward and at first, he can tell she thinks he’s going to kiss her. Her lips part and she pants a little bit out of sheer arousal. When his lips are just a millimeter from hers, he jerks his head to the side and whispers directly in her ear. “I think you need to be punished.”

“But Professor—“

“It’s Doctor. I’ve earned that title and you will use it.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good girl. Now stand up,” he says in a dangerous whisper that brooks no argument. Rose obeys as the Doctor moves back around the desk and opens a drawer. Rose’s eyes widen when she sees the ruler in his hand. He taps it gently on his palm as he moves back around the desk and stands behind her. He wraps his arms around her middle, under the bottom of the tight blouse, pressing the fingers of one hand against her waist and drawing the smooth wood of the ruler over her belly with the other. She can feel him hard against her low back and shivers a little as a new flood of wetness gushes into her already soaked knickers.

He slides the ruler slowly across her side and down, dipping under her short skirt to her bum and giving her the tiniest of taps. She’s so turned on now that she grinds back against him, desperate for friction, desperate to feel him. The Doctor quickly pulls his hips back and gives her a more substantial swat. “You dare to tempt your professor like that, after all you’ve done today?” he says crossly. At the loss of contact, Rose can’t help but whimper. “Fuck, Doctor, _please_.” Four stinging hits _thwack_ against her bum in rapid succession, the slight pain only turning her on more.

“Not only did you speak out of turn _again_ , I will not have that kind of language from my students, Miss Smith. You’ve just earned some extra punishment. Ten strokes, I think.”

He pauses a moment, waiting for her response. When they play games like this, whoever’s in charge always makes sure the other partner has a chance to utter the safe word before things progress very far.

Rose leans over the desk a bit more. “Yes, Doctor,” she replies, confirming her consent as she flips her skirt up, fully exposing her bum and barely-there red knickers.

The Doctor’s eyes darken further and he’s tempted to just rip them off and plunge inside her, sod his fantasy. Taking a deep breath to maintain some control, he instead gently pulls the soaked piece of fabric down to Rose’s ankles. Without warning, he grabs her mound and teases one finger between her folds, brushing her clit for less than a second. “My, my,” he smirks. “Someone is quite ready for this, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Rose responds breathily before feeling the cool sting of the ruler again. The Doctor alternates sides, using a bit more force each time, but never gets close to actually hurting Rose. They know each other’s limits well, have a safe word in place, and trust each other implicitly. He counts out each stroke as he goes, Rose merely moaning at each one. The Doctor knows she’s close by the ninth stroke. He bends over her body, his chest brushing her back, and, just as he delivers the final blow to her lovely arse, whispers in her ear. “Come for me, naughty girl.”

The Doctor nips her ear and, dropping the ruler, plunges two fingers inside her, feeling her muscles flutter as he works her down. “You took your punishment very well,” he praises, “But I’m afraid if you want to pass this class, you’re going to have to do some extra credit.”

He lightly grips Rose’s arm. Understanding the silent request, Rose pivots to face him. She leans her elbows back on the desk as she catches her breath. Her eyes are hazy from the bliss of her release and the Doctor can’t help but smile warmly at her for a moment before getting back in character, a hard, authoritative set returning to his features.

He steps between her legs, flipping up the front of her skirt and unabashedly drinking in the sight of her. His hands squeeze her breasts and he pinches her already hard nipples beneath her shirt before making quick work of the buttons and pulling it off. As he unclasps her bra, he kisses her deeply, sucking on her mouth, pressing his tongue against hers, nipping her bottom lip. He kisses down her chest and takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling the other one between thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, Doctor!” Rose cries, rutting up into his still-clothed hardness. It reminds the Doctor that his erection is getting almost painful, and he undoes his belt, pulling down his trousers and pants just enough to take himself in hand for measure of relief. Keeping his “professor clothes” on is part of the fantasy for him; it reminds him how illicit this is.

“Now for your assignment,” he grits out. “You, little miss, are going to turn back around so that I can see that arse of yours, so pretty from the marks I’ve left there. Then you’re going to lean over that desk and I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll beg me never to stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Doctor.” Rose’s voice is dripping with arousal and the Doctor can’t wait any longer. He flips her over and within seconds is seated deep inside her. They moan at the same time, finally getting what they crave. The Doctor’s pace is fast and rhythmic, enough to get them to the edge fairly quickly.

Rose grinds back into him, matching the quick rhythm. “Fuck me, Doctor!” she cries out. “Yes, just like that!” She groans as he hits that perfect spot inside her, sending such pleasure through her body that her legs begin to shake.

“Good girl, coming for your Doctor,” the Doctor murmurs breathlessly, knowing how much Rose gets turned on by this kind of praise. The words are enough to send her over the edge again, and when he feels the warm wetness envelop his cock, the Doctor can’t help but grind even harder. “Fuck, Rose! You’re going to make me come. I’m going to come inside you, and you’re going to like it, won’t you?”

All Rose can manage is a yelp in response.

“Here it comes, Rose,” he grinds out. And then, with a growl of sheer ecstasy, the Doctor lets go, sending Rose into oblivion for the fourth time.

He leans down and rests his arms on the desk outside of Rose’s. He stays inside her as they both catch their breath. A moment later, he pulls out gently and reaches for some tissues, handing them to Rose so she can clean up.

The Doctor crosses the room to a mini-fridge that looks like R2-D2 (a gift “from Tony” that the four-year-old apparently picked out himself). He pulls out two ice-cold bottles of water and hands one to Rose. She’s grinning at him, a look of sheer joy lighting up her flushed face.

“Happy birthday, Professor,” she purrs, giving him a sweet, chaste kiss.

“That’s Doctor, little miss,” he replies with a smile, then turns serious. “Thank you, love.”

“I know I’ve been workin’ a ton lately,” Rose says, a bit of guilt tainting her sweet voice. “We haven’t gotten much time together over these last few weeks. ‘M sorry for that. I hope this makes up for it a bit.”

“Rose Tyler, that was so good that if I didn’t have sex again for the next year, I wouldn’t even care. Wait. No. That’s a lie. Maybe the biggest lie I’ve ever told. Except for the time I said—“

“Doctor,” Rose murmurs gently, placing a hand on his chest to stop his rambling.

“Right. Sorry.” He smiles, suddenly looking shy. “Thank you for caring about me enough to give me this fantasy. It was perfect.”

“I’m glad,” she says. “And it was a lot of fun for me, too.” She pulls her jumper back on and does her best to look presentable as the Doctor zips up his trousers and runs his hands through his hair, which only makes it messier.

“I love you,” he tells her as he captures her lips. The rapidly deepening kiss is cut short a few moments later when Rose pulls back.

“Can’t be late for your birthday dinner, love. We best get home and change.”

“But Rooooose—“

“Shh. My parents n’ Tony really want to celebrate with you. Tony has been talkin’ about you comin’ over and playin’ all week. We’ll have a good time.”

“Not as good as if we got to say home and I got to keep playing with _you_ ,” he pouts.

Rose smiles indulgently but gathers their bags, wrinkling her nose at the mud on the Doctor’s briefcase as she hands it to him. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She leaves the office first and is relieved to see that the corridor is still empty. Just as she reaches the door that leads outside, she stops and turns toward her husband. “Oh, and Doctor? If you’re a good boy at dinner, maybe after, _I_ will play with _you_. She winks then starts for the car park. The Doctor follows, quietly humming “Happy Birthday” to himself. 


End file.
